Shatter Me
by McTuckerAddict
Summary: Craig slams the door behind him and sits down on his bed, kicking off his shoes. He lets his mind wander; what would have happened if he hadn't jumped in after Tweek? Would everyone have let him drown? Maybe the kid really doesnt have any friends. Something inside Craig keeps telling him that he should be to one to change that.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I thought i had done a good job of concealing myself, after all these years. I thought i had perfected the art of blending in to the wallpaper, of being the one that all gazes glaze right over, the one who was so integrated to the background that he himself has no problem overlooking him. I had to work pretty hard after fourth grade to get to where i am today. Or, where i was at the beginning of the summer.

Before Harbucks, i like to call it.

Before my mother practically pried me out of my room with a crowbar and told me that i wasn't spending another summer trapped in the house. She told me that i was supposed to be out having fun with my friends. I refrained from telling her that i didn't really have any friends at the moment, and that i was probably never going to have any friends who were worth me dragging my skinny ass outside for. Not that i have a problem with that; i'd prefer to be alone. That's why i sequestered myself so severely.

Anyway, back to my story.

She told me that getting a job would not only get me out of the house for a little while each day, but it would also give me a bit of pocket money. Although, i still have yet to figure out what i would be spending my money on; i don't need a car in such a small town, i'm fairly content in all of my outdated possessions and as stated before i don't have any friends who would want to go out and do things with me. I mean, i could put some of it away for college, but i hardly think a summer or two of working at a cheap coffee place will put even a small dent in the overall fund.

Fuck, i'm getting off track again.

Regardless of all of those factors, i went out and got a job at the Harbucks Coffee around the corner from my house. I figured that if i surround myself with stuff i like then maybe i'll start to like the job itself. I've been there for about a month and a half now, and the summer is nearly half way through. It's not as painful as i would have first imagined to to be, but i would much rather be at home listening to my weird music and reading in the privacy of my room. I'm not usually on register, though, which is really good. If i was up front, i would have to talk to and regularly interact with people, and i'm not very apt in that department. At least i can make a good cup of coffee. See, i wish i was good at talking to people. I really, really do. I hate to admit it, but it gets lonely being alone all the time.

Anyway, there i am about two days ago, mopping the tiled floor just after closing time when my coworker, Bebe Stevens, invites me to a party.

Firstly, i despise parties. I'm as socially graceful as a cat with one leg and i stutter every single time i open my freaking mouth. I'm not a partygoer, okay? At all. My fashion sense is so out of touch that i've resigned to wearing only skinny jeans and baggy sweatshirts. My hair refuses to cooperate no matter how i wear it; long, short, gelled, flat ironed, curled, pulled back, left down. It is having none of that. Now, its just a big blonde rat's nest that sits atop my head and hides my slightly-too-big forehead. My eyes are too wide for my face, not to mention the fact that i wear thick black glasses. The problem with my figure is that i'm super tall as well as being a fucking string bean. I'm six foot seven; if i try to find flattering jeans they're too short for my legs and if i actually find a comfortable shirt it would more likely fit a child.

Secondly, i despise the people that go to parties. I'm a target. Just a huge target with red and yellow flashing lights and a bullseye pasted to my back. Put me in with drunk assholes and high bastards and you've got a recipe for disaster. The last time i went to a party was in sixth grade, and i'll never forget it. This was before alcohol was introduced and it was a horrible night for me. Now add booze to the picture and i might not even make it home in one piece.

Thirdly, i'm just too exhausted to entertain anyone worth entertaining. Sure, a couple cups of coffee can fuel me enough to get through the work day, but anything after hours and i'm a freaking zombie. When i get home, my body knows that it's time for me to relax. And, for the record, i do sleep. A few years ago a rumor started to circulate that i never slept because i was a robot. Any potential friends i had then disappeared as if i was contagious or something, like i could kill them with a single glance. Its just really sporadic and i can never control when i fall asleep or how long i stay asleep. Most nights i'm so exhausted my brain could leak out of my ears and i wouldn't know it, but i just can't fall asleep. Its pure torture.

So then what the fuck am i doing at a party?

I look at my shoes as i raise a hand to knock on the front door, my jaw tight. I just couldn't say no to Bebe; either she really knows how to be convincing or i have a problem with saying no. Probably the latter. The issue with this is that i can't tell she's just inviting me because its a polite thing to do or if she actually wants me here. I mean, we work together, yeah. But i don't really think she considers me a friend. We talk a little bit at work, but its nothing more than mannerly chit chat to pass the time.

Personally, i think she's really nice. She talks to me like i'm a regular human being, not a bomb that could blow up at any moment. She smokes with me during our breaks and then waits for me to finish to go back inside. Sometimes she gives me rides home, which i like even though i live right around the corner. Some nights, i really need it and she's aware of that. Overall, she's just a great, genuine person.

Before my hand makes the slightest contact with the door it swings inward, two seniors barreling out. They knock me out of the way and i have to scramble for the railing to keep myself upright, the alcohol wafting off of them swirling around my nose as i fumble.

"You're both fucking bastards!" Bebe shouts out the door, her face twisted into a mask of rage. One of the seniors flip her off as the other pulls him toward the street, slurring about just letting her cool off. I blink in surprise, my hands curling closer to my chest. Bebe turns to me, a slight bit of confusion flashing through her eyes before she smiles warmly at me.

"Tweek!" The sound of my name makes me jump. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. I'm glad you could make it! Everyone is out back, by the pool. I'll be back in a second." I nod curtly, wringing my hands as i slip past her silently. I stand awkwardly in the doorway, my eyes flickering around her entryway. Okay. This doesn't seem as bad as it could be.

As i'm being my usual awkward self, i hear some more people saunter up the stairs behind me. Swallowing hard, i step aside and turn to face them, catching a glimpse of chestnut hair and a letterman jacket behind Bebe.

"Hey," Clyde Donovan's voice rings through my ears and i shrink further away from the door. "I'm sorry we're late."

"I didn't want to come." Craig Tucker states plainly, his voice a monotone as he walks inside. I stare openly at the top of his head as he walks past me, my arms pulled tightly against my sides. He doesn't spare me a second glance as he walks through the foyer, his expression already bored as he waltzes into the kitchen. Like i'm complaining; for as much attention that i call upon myself, i don't enjoy being stared at. I hear Clyde sigh from the door.

"Sorry about him. I figured he could use some air. I don't want him to die in his room from lack of exercise." Clyde says, rubbing the back of his neck. Bebe just smiles and waves her hand, leaning on the door frame. I decide to leave them alone, not wanting to intrude any more than i already am. Willing my feet to move, i follow Craig's path into the kitchen as i push my glasses up further on my nose. I find him stooped into the fridge, rummaging through it lazily.

"Can i help you with something?" He asks without turning around, his voice just as uninterested as his expression was a moment ago. Suddenly a popping sound rings in my ears and i jump, my shoulders stiffening. He straightens up and turns around, raising a soda to his lips as he cocks an eyebrow at me.

"Oh, uh. M-Me?" I mumble, jabbing a finger into my chest as i back away a step. He glances around and nods, closing the fridge and hopping onto the counter.

"You're the only other person in here, yeah," He states, folding one arm over his chest as he sips at his drink. As if it should have been obvious that he's talking to me. He's never spoken a word to me before. At a loss for what to say, i shake my head, keeping my eyes down as i inch towards the back door. I turn my back to him as i grip the handle of the sliding glass door, trying to concentrate on pulling it open. It won't budge. Oh god... I suddenly feel trapped, my heart speeding up as my blood pumps wildly in my ears. Craig slides off the counter with a sigh, walking up beside me and pulling open the other side of the door.

"Wrong side, genius." He says, raising his eyebrows slightly at me as he nods towards the back door. Before i'm even two steps onto the back deck the door slides shut behind me, clipping the back of my sneaker and making me stumble into someone. She turns around and raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me, obviously confused. I stutter out apologies as i inch away, deciding that i should just bail right then and there.

I force a deep breath into my lungs, exhaling slowly as i feel myself begin to calm down. I just want this to be over. I look out over the backyard, watching the surface of the water move lackadaisically around the people lounging, floating and playing among it. It looks really fun; if i were normal, like the rest of my classmates in attendance, i'd be having a really good time. Bebe knows how to throw a nice party, i have to say. At least no one is completely drunk yet. Music drifts softly around the crowd, loud enough to be heard but not intrusive either. There are glow sticks floating on the surface of the pool in all types of colors, casting a neon glow over the water. Some coolers are lined along the far side of the deck and i stride towards them, rooting through the beer, soda and other various drinks before i find a small bottle of water at the bottom. I toy with the cap in my fingers as i take a drink, reveling as the cold branches though my chest.

"Join the party, Tweek." Someone claps a hand on my shoulder, making me sputter and spill some water down my chin. "Oh, sorry dude." Clyde says, offering me a small grin. I turn to face him, already shaking my head and apologizing as i back up a bit from him and Bebe. The back of my calf hits one of the plastic coolers and i fall directly onto it, spikes of pain shooting up my spine. I don't have much padding back there. Its like landing on cement.

"Oh! Are you okay?" Bebe asks softly, extending a hand to help me up. I nod, pushing myself off the cooler.

"Yeah, i'm fine. I-It was an accident. No h-harm no foul, r-right?" I laugh nervously, wringing my hands tightly as i stagger down the steps. Once i'm far enough away from them, i smack the heel of my hand against my forehead, sighing dejectedly. God, i'm so awkward. Its painful how socially inept i actually am. I just want to go home.

"Smooth retreat, man," Craig mumbles from the stairs, tossing his now empty can of soda into a nearby trash can. It spins around the rim before falling neatly inside of it, joining the other cans and bottles in the bottom. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, rolling my eyes towards the ground as i shrug one shoulder. "Do you say anything other than 'I'm sorry,' or are those the only two words in your vocabulary?" Surprised, i lift my gaze to meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow, tilting my head slightly. Did he actually just ask that?

"I can, yeah," I say defensively, folding my arms tightly over my chest. Craig raises his hands in mock fear.

"Sorry," He says, pursing his lips. "Never heard you say anything else before."

"Ngh. M-Maybe that's because i don't like talking to complete dicks." I mumble under my breath, turning on my heel and striding towards the pool. God, he's annoying. What i want to do most is shove past him like a child and walk right out the front door, flipping him off. I mean, why the fuck would you ask someone that? Its rude.

Maybe Craig is just as deprived of social graces as i am, in a different way.

Sighing under my breath, i perch on the lawn chair farthest away from the pool. I've always liked swimming. I was on the swim team freshman and sophomore year, actually. My mom used to tell me that i was born to be in the water, and that she had known since she put me in the bath for the first time when i was a newborn. Plus, swimming calms me down a lot. My coach says that i'm good enough to get a sports scholarship for college, but i don't really want to think about that yet. I just want to get through junior year before i even begin to think about where i want to go to college. I'm comfortable with letting everything just stay the way it is right now.

"Out of my seat, faggot." Cartman's voice sends icicles of fear through my brain and i turn to look at him, blinking in surprise. A sly smile spreads over his face and he takes a step closer, closing what little distance was between us. "Or i'll move you myself."

Oh god... What the fuck could he mean by that? There's a variety of options. Cartman is one of the biggest assholes and he makes sure to torture me daily when we're in school, no matter where we are or what time it is. As i move to stand Cartman catches me by the hood of my sweatshirt and drags me to the edge of the pool, holding me so close to the edge that the glow rising from the water reflects off the toes of my grubby sneakers.

"Looks like you weren't quick enough, Twitchy." He clucks his tongue, shaking his head. The sound of his awful nickname for me buzzes in my brain like an angry bee. "Yet again."

Before I know what's even happening, Cartman lets go of me and nudges me over the edge with his elbow. Laughter is already swirling around my ears as the worn treads on my sneakers give way easily to the slick stone around the pool, my body jerking itself around to try and keep itself out of the water below it. I whack the side of my head on the edge as i go splashing through the net of glow sticks, my eyes closing as a strong pain spreads through my head. Suddenly the sound is sucked away by the water that closes rapidly around me, swallowing me like an angry beast.

I'm out of my element. I can't tell which way is up or down and my limbs feel too heavy to move. My breath is gone and within seconds i'm sputtering like a fish out of water, my fingers clawing at the water in an attempt to get me to move. 'How ironic.' I think calmly, my thoughts settled in the silence surrounding me. My clothes and shoes only drag me down quicker, making it harder for me to get to the surface. Bright white lights flash around the edges of my vision, growing brighter and bigger as i fight to draw oxygen into my scorching lungs. Panic rises in my throat and takes hold around my brain, my limbs fighting the matter around them as ringing echoes through my ears.

All of a sudden, i feel an arm hooked around my waist. I'm pulled out of the pool and slapped onto the ground, my legs still dangling in the water. I turn and lean on my elbow as i spit water out of my lungs between coughs, my head throbbing. I draw in deep breaths of air as my vision spins, trying to dissolve the burning feeling in my chest. I rub at my eyes with my knuckles in an attempt to clear away the water, feeling like a complete idiot.

How could i have been stupid enough to think that this would have gone even a little well? Nothing like this ever works in my favor, so why should it this time?

"You could've killed him!" I hear someone shout, their voice dripping with fire. My hearing is clogged so badly that i wonder vaguely if i'm still under water. I force my eyes open, glancing at the other person beside me. Staring openly, my eyebrows pull together in confusion as he wrings out the bottom of his t-shirt in a weak attempt to dry it off a bit. My eyes travel down his sculpted body, my face turning bright red as i notice he's not wearing any pants. His shoes and socks are in a heap with his jeans, his hat topping the small pile like a cherry on top of a sundae. His dark hair clings to his forehead as water drips down his nose, his eyelashes clumped together. I didn't realize how close i am to him and i move away a bit. He shoots me a sideways glance and flips me off, coughing into the crook of his arm.

Craig Tucker.

 _He just saved my life?_

Bebe kneels beside me, smoothing my soaking wet hair out of my eyes and handing me my thick black glasses. I jerk myself away in shock, my brain swirling at the rash movement. A wave of nausea washes over me and i swallow thickly, squeezing my eyes shut tightly.

"Are you okay?" She asks as i teeter. The earth tilts under my feet and i pitch backwards, grabbing at nothing as i steady myself. I must've hit my head pretty damn hard.

"Fine," I state quickly, already shoving past people to get away from them. A loud boom of laugher follows me out and i struggle to breathe, my chest tightening as i slide my glasses over my eyes.

Oh god.. Oh god what the fuck just happened? Why would Craig save me? Fuck, that guy is bipolar. I'm surprised at how panicked Bebe looked. To be perfectly honest i didn't know she cared about me that much. She probably just didn't want to deal with some weird dead kid floating in her parents' nice pool.

I rake my hands through my soaking wet hair, smoothing it out of my face. To push the embarrassment out of my mind, i wrap my arms around myself and focus on the wet slapping of my sneakers on the sidewalk. So much for trying to come out of my shell. That little escapade pretty much pushed me further down into the hole i've dug for myself.

When i get home my mother is lounging on her chair in the corner of the living room, leafing lazily through a Home Goods magazine. She doesn't even glance up when i come inside, my sneakers sloshing water into the house.

"So, how'd your party go, sweetie?" She asks, her voice quiet as her eyes scan her magazine. I swallow hard, wiping a stray bead of water from the side of my face.

"Good." I say, not wanting her to see me. I don't want to get into anything right now. "It was pretty fun, actually."

"Oh, well i'm glad you had a good time. You should do things like that more often." She says softly, a small smile spreading over her face. "I was just about to make tea. Would you like me to make you some, honey?" I can tell she doesn't want to hear much of anything. She's always been like that. She ignores the fact that i'm not a normal kid, and it has aggravated me my whole life.

I don't want to think about this now. I can already feel the remnants of panic from the party shooting through my brain, the clamping of nervousness around my ribs. It sucks. All i need now is something warm to drink and a hot shower.

"Uh, yeah, actually." I say, already heading towards the stairs. I could really use something to relax me a bit. My thoughts won't settle, especially with the welt that's growing over my forehead. "Thanks." My mother hums softly in response, waving her hand as she delicately turns the page in her magazine.

My mom knows how to make tea exactly how i like it. If anyone else makes it, i won't drink it. For numerous reasons. (What if someone puts something in it that makes me pass out or something? Tea makes me tired already, but I need all of my organs, man!) I jog up the stairs and step into my bathroom, taking a deep breath. My parents have their own master bathroom, so they let me have this one. My dad even cut out a door that connects it with my room for me, since i'm right next to it.

Closing the door behind me, i pull my soaking wet sweatshirt over my head, my arms getting tangled in the sleeves. I sigh angrily, yanking my arms away. I wince when i hit myself in the face, just now noticing how big the bruise is going to be. I trace the tender spot on my forehead; it extends from my left temple to the middle of my eyebrow. How the hell am i going to explain this?

God, this fucking sucks. And i have the early shift at work tomorrow; i've always hated opening. I feel like i'm going to do something wrong. Do you see why i hate parties? None of this would be happening if i had stayed home tonight.

I slap my hand against the dial to turn on the water, waiting for it to warm up a bit as i toss my dirty jeans in the hamper. I have to remember to do my laundry after i get out of the shower. I need some clean clothes for tomorrow. I don't trust anyone else to do my laundry, not even my parents. One time my mom accidentally turned one of my favorite shirts pink.

You can imagine how well that went down when i wore it to school.

Stepping into the warm water, i rake my hands through my hair, carefully avoiding my newly forming bruise. Squeezing some shampoo into the palm of my hand, i massage it slowly into my scalp and let my mind wander.

Why the fuck would Craig jump into a pool to keep me from drowning? I mean, i would be able to see why Bebe would, or even Clyde; I could see Bebe forcing Clyde in after me. But... Why Craig? It doesn't make any sense. Come to think of it, not a lot about him makes any sense. Not that i know an extensive amount of information about Craig Tucker; i'm really just going off the stuff i overhear in school.

He hangs out with Clyde and Token all the time. He was in the art club last year; i remember seeing him with the group, not to mention the fact that he carries a leather-bound sketchbook with him constantly. I didn't see it tonight, though. He comes into Harbucks from time to time with the book, and he usually orders something with caramel in it. I think he has two little sisters, but i can't remember their names at the moment. Last year he was in advanced science and honors english. I know that because i took science and english with him. I think Bebe was in his history class. I remember her saying something about him being either a total tool or completely silent, with no in between. Sounds about right.

I rake my hands through my hair to get out the conditioner, already pawing for my body wash so i can have my tea and read for a little while. I just want to forget this whole night ever even happened. I love to read. It's the only thing i can really focus on, plus it's so much fun. Reading helps me forget about my own problems for a little while, so i can worry about someone else's.

Shaking my hair out with a clean towel, i dry myself off and change into some comfy sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Sighing and rubbing my eyes, i rummage through the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink before finding the pain medication. After tipping back two pills and a gulp of water, i stare at my reflection in the mirror for a moment, bored. Wow, i look exhausted; and that takes a hell of a lot to actually accomplish. Right. When i get into my room i step into some slippers, noticing that my mom left my cup of tea on my nightstand for me. A small smile picks up the corners of my lips and i wrap my thin fingers around the mug, reveling in the warmth as i crawl into my bed.

Okay, this is marginally better than i thought the night would turn out to be. At least i have all of my body parts.

"So, why'd you jump in? Felt like going for a swim?" Token jokes as he closes the drivers side door and clicks his seatbelt into place. Craig flips him off, rolling his eyes as his fingers tighten around his old blue hat. The raven had decided to leave the party early just a few minutes after Tweek had; no one likes wet boxers paired with dry jeans. Token drove and he didn't feel like walking, so he caught a ride. Craig shrugs, leaning his elbow on the door.

"Dunno." He answers flatly, leaning his cheek on his knuckles. Token raises an eyebrow at him as he pulls away from the curb. He really doesn't know, in truth. He just kind of... did it. There wasn't much forethought put into plunging into the water after Tweek. "Its not like anyone else was jumping at the chance." A crooked smile creeps onto Craig's lip and he shares a laugh with himself, chuckling at his own joke. Token's eyes roll.

"I'm sure someone would have gone in, other than you," Token comments, fiddling with the radio as he turns onto Craig's street.

"I don't really think they would have, dude." Craig confesses, looking over at his friend. "I mean, the guy is a hermit. Its not like anyone would miss him."

"Whoa, dude. Dark."

"I'm just saying! Think about it!" Craig says, widening his eyes at Token and holding his hands up in defense. After a moment of consideration, Token shrugs and sighs.

"I guess you're right. Does he have any friends?" Token asks as he turns into Craig's driveway, narrowly avoiding the trash cans that Mr. Tucker had just pulled out to the street for morning pickup.

"I don't think so."

"I don't know much about him. I don't think anyone knows much about him. Do you even remember his real name?" Craig shakes his head in response, pushing through his door. He didn't think Tweek had another name. He's never really given it much thought. Everyone calls him that; his classmates, his parents, his teachers. The whole damn town calls him that. He's only ever always been Tweek.

"Okay, we'll gossip about this later." Craig says in a mocking tone, a smug look on his face as he pops his head back into the car. "Now I'm curious about this asshole. Thanks for the ride."

"Mmhm." Token hums, waving his hand with a small smirk. "Get out of my car, i'm fucking tired."

"Yeah, yeah, old man. Get home so you can take your medicine and catch the news."

"Fuck you,"

"You wish." Craig says, slamming the door shut and turning on his heel to walk up to his house. He stretches and yawns as he walks inside, kicking his shoes away. He lets himself wonder what would have happened if he hadn't jumped in after Tweek. Would the kid have drowned? Maybe he really doesn't have any friends.

Something inside Craig keeps telling him that he needs to be the one to change that.


	2. Chapter 2

Shatter Me

Chapter 2

I wake up late the next morning, already in a panic from a bad dream i had last night. I hate having bad dreams. The worst part about them is that i can't really remember what happened. I only recall the terror i felt, and the dread i feel now about going back to sleep tonight. I already fucking hate sleeping, now i have to worry about bad dreams and all this other bull crap. It's not fair at all, man. I know that i'm supposed to love sleeping. I know i'm supposed to curl up in my bed like a good kid and sleep until the sun rises. But i don't. I've never been able to. Sleep leaves me feeling tired. Isn't that seriously fucked up? Like what the hell.

With my mind barely conscious and my body little more than a sack of meat, i clamber out of bed and fish around for some clean clothes in my closet. Only... there aren't any. My hands paw around on the shelves for a moment before coming back completely empty.

Fuck. I totally forgot about turning on the washing machine last night.

I curse to myself and pull on a pair of jeans i found on the floor, along with an almost-clean t-shirt from my dresser. At least i have clean boxers and socks. That would have crossed the line. I have this weird thing about wearing dirty clothes; it's just really disgusting to me, and I can't concentrate the rest of the day when I'm wearing them. I kind of feel like people know how nasty I'm being.

As i'm shoving my feet carelessly into my sneakers I realize that i don't have time to brew any fresh coffee. Groaning loudly, i just pour the left over sludge from the pot in the kitchen into a paper to-go cup and hurry out the door, chugging it black and cold as i run around the corner to Harbucks. I don't bother going around the side to go through the employee entrance; instead i just shove my key into the front door and flip the sign to "Open," still only partially awake. I call out to Bebe, who's in the back checking on the deliveries.

With a yawn, i walk over to the clock behind the counter to punch in before grabbing a fresh bag of coffee grounds from a cabinet above my head and a measuring cup from a rack nearby. As i'm scooping some coffee into a machine my hand slips and the bag of grounds goes tumbling to the floor, spilling all down the front of my bright green apron.

Great. Just fucking amazing.

"Son of a bitch." I mumble, sighing dejectedly as i reach for the broom behind the counter. Its like the universe is out to get me or something.

Oh god, what if it really is out to get me? I won't last a goddamn minute!

"Smooth,"

"J-Jesus Christ!" I shout, jumping and whirling around. I drop the broom and it lands with a clatter on the floor, rolling from side to side as i stare openly at the person on the other side of the counter. "W-What are you d-doing here? Its not even six forty f-five!"

"Why do you stutter over some words and not over others?" Craig asks, his expression unchanging as he thumbs over some gift cards in the rack beside him. I notice how he dodges the question. My eyebrows pull together and i curl my hands close to my chest, taking a short step away from him.

"What?" I ask, feeling stupid as the word leaves my mouth. He sighs impatiently.

"Like, you stuttered over the word 'five' but not over the word 'forty,' even though they have the same first letter. Why is that?" Craig lifts his gaze to meet mine and i feel like someone just dropped pulled my stomach out through my ass. I don't like it when he looks at me like that. I feel like someone just turned a spotlight on me, or i'm a specimen under the microscope. I fucking hate that feeling.

"W-Why are you so obsessed with the way i talk?" I ask accusingly, my voice grating. I hate it when my flaws are pointed out so bluntly, especially when its my stuttering. I can't help it. I don't decide when i stutter and when i don't. In my own mind, i never stutter because my thoughts are fluid and smooth and never overlap each other. But when they attempt to leave my mouth, they get all jumbled up and smudged around. It's not my fault. My mother doesn't fucking believe me when i tell her that i need help with this sort of thing, so its not even like i can just pop a pill and have it go away. No one understands that when I'm around people, my chest turns into a pressure cooker and i can't breathe. No one understands that working gives me ten times more anxiety than i already fucking had. No one understands that no matter how much sleep i get i will always be tired. No one understands that i grew up under the assumption that i was not normal, and the people around me only always continue to reinforce that idea. And the best part about all this, is when i say i need help or that i don't want to go out tonight or that i'm tired, they don't believe me. They tell me that i'm making something out of nothing, or that i'm just being shy and that it will go away, or that i just need to go to sleep earlier.

I didn't choose to be this way, asshole, so stop fucking asking me about why i'm as weird and awkward as i am.

My fingernails dig into my palms as I take a deep breath in a weak attempt to calm myself down.

Instead of saying all of this, i shrug my shoulders stiffly and bend over to pick up the broom. I feel Craig's gaze follow me down, watching closely as my fingers wrap around the worn yellow broom handle.

"Aren't you going to take my order?"

"J-Just gimme a minute, okay?" I spit, now fuming from listening to my own thoughts. I don't fucking care if i'm being a brat. I don't care if i'm technically on the clock and i'm supposed to be nice to him. I don't care about being anything to him. I just want him to leave.

I draw in another breath of air, counting in my head as i sweep the spilled coffee grounds into a dust pan and dump them into a trash bin.

"You don't seem to stutter when you're angry."

"You don't seem like an asshole when you're quiet." I mumble under my breath, leaning the broom on the wall behind the counter. I finally meet Craig's gaze and he narrows his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. I lift my chin at him, daring him to try anything. Usually, i would be fucking terrified; i guess my rage is fueling me.

At that moment, i hear Bebe come back in from the employee entrance, her heels clicking on the glossy tiled floor. We both turn to her, our expressions mirroring each other: slight guilt mixed in with lingering aggravation. We look like two little kids who got caught fighting over the last cookie before dinner.

"Oh, hi Craig," She starts cautiously, her eyes scanning Craig up and down. "Is everything okay?" She asks, her brown eyes sliding to me.

"Y-Yeah. Everything's cool." I say quietly, wringing my hands together. One of Bebe's sculpted eyebrows quirks slightly and her eyes flicker between Craig and i, trying to decide if she should believe me.

"Okay." She says, her expression reverting back to one of neutral happiness. "I'll be in the back. I have to get the pastries for the bakery case ready. Did you start brewing anything?" I nod stiffly and a sweet smile spreads over her face before she turns and walks to the back room. Immediately after she's out of my sight, i feel awkwardly upset about what i said about Craig.

I'm a huge pushover. No matter what anyone says to me or about me, if i say anything back- or think anything, even- i automatically feel like the biggest jerk on the face of the earth. It's a feeling that comes after the rage subsides.

"Um.." I start, biting down hard on my bottom lip. Craig blinks, like he doesn't quite know how to act around me any longer.

"I'll have an iced caramel macchiato with two pumps of caramel." He says tightly, his eyes darting to the floor. "Please." He seems to have tacked the last part on, like he forced it out of himself. I tell him how much it costs and he digs through his pocket for a moment, his shoulders stiff when he hands me a five dollar bill. With that, he turns on his heel and walks over to one of the far tables, plopping into the chair with his back to me. I feel like i pissed him off.

In all fairness, he started it.

Bebe hums to herself as she walks back out to restock the bakery case beside the register, singing along to the soft music that drifts through the shop. I give her a small smile and she pulls me aside after i push start on the coffee machine, her eyes suddenly serious as she looks at the bruise on my forehead. Nervous, i push my glasses up further on my nose and look at my feet, shrinking back a bit.

"Are you okay?" She asks, reaching up to smooth my hair off my forehead. She pulls me down a bit to get a closer look, her eyebrows drawing together. "You didn't seem okay when you left last night."

"I'm f-fine." I says quietly, shrugging and backing away. "I-I was just kinda f-freaked out, you know? I'm g-good now."

"What about your forehead?" Bebe asks, balancing one hand on her hip. I nod again and she sighs. "I didn't know Cartman was going to be there. If i had, i wouldn't have asked you to come. I know he gives you a hard time and.. I'm sorry about putting you through that." She says softly, her voice hushed. "You scared the crap out of me."

A small smile spreads over my lips and i apologize sheepishly, glancing up at her. I had no idea she thought so highly of me. Maybe she doesn't think i'm just the weird kid she works with.

I think i like not being that kid.

"T-Thanks..." I say, my smile growing. "For i-inviting me. It was r-really nice of you." Bebe grins and shakes her head, waving her hand.

"I wanted to get you out of your house for a little while. You seem lonely sometimes." She says, patting my shoulder. My smile grows.

The machine dings loudly and we both go back to what we were doing before, the smell of coffee seeping into the air as people begin to enter the shop.

I make Craig's macchiato for him, standing with it awkwardly in my hand for a moment before deciding to just bring it to him. I have a feeling that he wouldn't want to come up to get it from me. My shoulders go rigid as i walk around the counter, my chest tightening as i near his table. He makes me unbelievably nervous. He has since we were kids. I think it has something to do with the fight we got into in like third grade. I know he had nothing to do with starting it, and that he didn't "choose" me (god we were such fucking idiots) or anything, but he still freaks me out.

Falteringly, I skid to a stop beside his chair and hold the drink out to him wordlessly, my arm stiff. He looks up at me blankly, pulling his headphones out of his ears as he takes the drink from me. My eyes follow the small plastic buds as he sets them on the table, noticing the fact that they're Captain America themed. With the right colors and symbol and everything. Cool.

"Thanks," Craig mumbles gruffly, stuffing the already tangled wires into his sweatshirt pocket as he closes the cover to his sketch book. I let my eyes drop to the table, shifting uncomfortably. I want to say- "Sorry. About before. Clyde says I'm not exactly amazing with the whole, uh, 'interaction' thing." He mutters, rubbing his arm and looking at his lap.

What?

Now i'm left wondering who put him up to this. He's probably saying that because he doesn't want to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. The only reason people are decent to me is because they think that i'm the crazy kid who's going to come to school one day and shoot everyone. No one seems to understand that I don't know how to operate a gun, so I can't do that.

…that was a joke. I'm not going to shoot anyone.

"I-Its okay." I mutter, toying with my hands. I always pick at my hands, mostly because they're always gross. It's a bad habit of mine that i do when i'm nervous. Which is always, so... "M-Me too. I shouldn't have c-called you an asshole. If i wasn't b-behind a counter you p-probably would've k-kicked my ass." Craig smiles slightly at me, shaking his head and laughing under his breath.

He has a nice smile. And a cute laugh.

Suddenly my stomach is doing flip flops and my face is turning bright red, my heart hammering wildly against my chest.

"I wouldn't have kicked your ass. I get called an asshole daily. By my family. I was expecting way worse from someone else." Craig says, shrugging. I smile nervously, chewing on the inside of my lip as I wring my hands together. Craig's gaze drifts up to my forehead and he whistles. "That's one hell of a bruise, dude. I'm surprised you didn't pass out."

"I-I've had worse," I say with a roll of my eyes, looking down. I really have had much worse than this. Throwing me into a pool is one of the least fucked up things Cartman has ever done to me. Craig's expression darkens, but i can't read it.

Who am i kidding? I couldn't read someone's expression if it was spelled out in black sharpie on their forehead.

Out of sheer curiosity, and to change the subject, i ask him about his headphones. He blinks and glances down, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he digs them out of his pocket.

"They're Captain America. I got them at a con last year with Token."

"You g-go to cons?" I ask in awe. The corners of Craig's lips lift ever so slightly and he nods, shrugging.

"I have my nerdy side, I guess. I mostly go for the video games and movies."

The conversation continues easily, moving onto some of our favorite movies and why we like them so much. I actually had the courage to sit down across from him, after he told me it was okay. I never would have known how easy it is to talk to him, especially by the way he spoke to me before i fucking dove into the pool last night. It's so easy to talk to him that i just now realize that i've been talking for fifteen minutes.

"I- um.. I-I've gotta go. I-I'm technically o-on the clock." I mumble, pointing over my shoulder to the counter. I hear Bebe's cheery voice taking orders and the rhythmic clicking of the cash register, along with the dinging of the coffee machines.

"Okay." Craig says softly, looking back down at the table. "See you later."

"Bye," I say quietly, backing up towards the counter. I find that, walking away, i'm wearing the biggest, stupidest smile that has ever graced my lips. It feels weird, and after a few minutes my cheeks start hurting.

About half my shift passes without any events, and the day seems to be going by fairly quickly. Craig hasn't left yet, which is probably why Clyde bursts through the door with Token trailing behind him warily. He looks like he just got up. I try to ignore them as i clean off the counter near the flavor pumps.

"Hey," Token says quietly, sitting down across from Craig. Craig shoves his phone into his pocket, leaning on his fist. Clyde takes the seat next to Token, already launching into a spiel about the carnival.

Every summer, the town hosts a carnival near Stark's Pond. They just finished setting up all the rides and games, and tonight is the first night that it's open. There's going to be fireworks and free admission; then again, you have to pay for the rides and food and stuff. You only really get inside the gates for free.

"We have to go," Clyde says excitedly, leaning forward on his elbows. I can't see Craig's face from here, but i can tell by the way he's flipping Clyde off that he's rolling his eyes. "C'mon dude! You can't just sit in your bedroom for the rest of your life."

"Who says i can't?" Craig asks, folding his arms over his chest.

"The laws of nature!"

"I call bullshit."

"It wouldn't exactly be bad for you, dude." Token says, shrugging. Craig flips him off as well. "Oh, please. It's not that bad. I don't understand why you hate the carnival so much."

I do. I understand completely. There's way too many things that could go wrong. There's a shit ton of germs, what with the rides and nasty food. Plus, people throw up left and right. There's too many people in one place at one time for anything to run smoothly. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of going anywhere near that place.

All of a sudden, as if on cue, Craig turns around with this devilish smirk on his face and meets my eye, making my blood run cold. He turns back to his friends.

"I'll go if Tweek does."

Clyde and Token both look up at me, the looks of confusion plain on their faces. My fingers go numb.

"Why...?" Clyde asks in a hushed tone, his eyes still glued on me. Token smacks his arm.

"He's right there!" He hisses, his gaze darting between me and Clyde. I roll my eyes. Yeah, because that matters so fucking much to people. I shrink towards the back room, mumbling to Bebe about taking a smoke break.

I despise people, if you couldn't already tell, and this is a huge reason. People talk about me like i'm not even there. Or they whisper among themselves, like i can't hear them. Angry again, i pull my rumpled pack of American Spirits out of my back pocket and fish for my book of matches. Fucking assholes... Now i'm just as pissed off as i was at seven o'clock.

And why the hell would Craig want me to go with him to the carnival? Why would i suddenly become fascinating enough to want to hang out with? Maybe i'd consider hanging out with him... if he had asked me in private and it wasn't going to be at a place where monstrous chunks of moving metal ruled most of the empty space. Why couldn't he be normal?

And, more importantly, why couldn't i just be normal and agree to go with him and his friends?

I wrap my lips around the orange filter, flicking a match over the red strip on the back of the match book. I know i shouldn't be smoking, especially not at work. But i can't help it. My first cigarette was back in freshman year, when i went through a phase of trying to have friends. I started hanging out with Stan and those guys again.

Worst goddamn mistake of my life. On Halloween, they all got me drunk and-

"Tweek?"

"Gah!" I shout, spinning on my heel and dropping my matches. Glaring at Craig, i bend down to get them as i catch my breath. "What?" He holds his hands up in defense.

"I just wanted to see where you were, dude. Chill." He mumbles, raising an eyebrow a i blow smoke from my nose. "I didn't know you smoked." I shrug and look down, tapping the ashes off the end of my cigarette.

"You d-don't know a-anything about me." I meet Craig's eyes and he looks down, his face suddenly slightly red.

"Um," He starts awkwardly, coughing into his fist. "So, about the carnival. Do you want to come with me- us?" His cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. I smirk.

"Not r-really, no." I say softly, shaking my head and looking down. "I'm n-not exactly a b-big fan of carnivals." Craig chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know what you mean." He mutters. "All those people in one place. Fucking aggravating, dude. Not to mention how nasty it is. Do you know what they do if you throw up on a ride?"

"Yeah! T-They just pour w-water all over it and r-run the ride. F-Fucking gross." I say, scrunching my nose. Craig laughs, smiling slightly and shaking his head. I can't help but laugh along with him, my heart beating in my ears. "So, no. I will n-not be going a-anywhere near that p-place."

"If you come with me, we could just chill together and complain about it some more." Craig says, shrugging and glancing up at me. Everything inside of me is screaming to say yes, especially when i meet his gaze. He's got really nice looking eyes. I've never seen eyes so gray, like stormy clouds or something. They glow a little bit. Its cool.

What?

"I- um-"

"We're going at eight," Craig says, turning on his heel and heading back inside. He tilts his head at me, looking over his shoulder. "If you're not there, i'll drag you out by your hair." I rub the back of my neck, swallowing hard and nodding stiffly. A smirk grows over Craig's face and he ducks into the store, leaving me alone to freak out.

Its seven forty. I'm sitting alone in my room, curled in a blanket with this terrified expression on my face, just staring at the wall. I don't want to get out of my bed. But what if Craig was serious about dragging me out by my hair? I need my hair, man! I'd look weird bald! I sigh quietly, my nails digging into my palms as i swing my legs over the side of my bed. I haven't asked my mom yet. She's my last hope of getting out of this. If she says no and Craig shows up, i can tell him that i simply can't. I know how stupid that sounds, the fact that i still like to ask my mom to go places. Not that she really cares. Its more like i want her to care where i am.

"Mom?" I call softly from the top of the stairs, wringing my hands. My thick blue comforter is still wrapped around my shoulders like a cape and i pull it closer to me, taking a step down the stairs.

"Yes, honey?" She asks, tilting her head towards me. She doesn't look up from the TV.

"Can i go to the fair tonight at Stark's?" I ask, sitting down near the foot of the stairs. Mom's eyebrows furrow slightly and she nods, reaching for the remote.

"Mmhm, sure you can." Fuck. "I'll get you some money in a second." Shoulders drooping, i walk back to my room and change out of my sweatpants, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans. I paw through my closet for a big hoodie, not really caring which one i grab. I have an extensive collection of hoodies; this one happens to be a deep blue pullover. Thankfully, when I got off work I remembered that I had to do my laundry, so that got done right away.

Wanting to waste more time than i need, i walk downstairs slowly and take the money my mom left out on the counter, slipping out the back door without another word.

I walk silently to the fairgrounds, my hands shoved into my pockets. God, i fucking hate this. Why am i such a fucking pushover? The one thing I still don't understand is why Craig had wanted me to come with him and his friends. What the hell is that about? I can't help but feel like something is going to happen to me, like a prank or something. I'm going to be on guard the entire night. Its like i'm walking towards my own doom.

I hear Clyde before i see him, his voice echoing through my brain. He and Token are already on the ticket line. Their backs are to me, so they don't see me. Craig isn't there yet; I feel sick suddenly.

"I don't get it," Clyde huffs. "He's going to ruin it."

"He isn't going to ruin it," Token says, shaking his head as he taps away on his phone. Clyde rolls his eyes to the ground.

"What's with Craig, anyway? Why the hell would he invite him?"

"I don't know. But you have to give him a chance, Clyde." Token sighs, lifting his head for a moment. "Do you even know anything about him?"

"No," Clyde mutters, folding his arms over his chest. "No one does. Doesn't that strike you as weird?"

"Maybe a little, but not to the point of hating the guy. You seriously need to chill." My chest tightens and i back away a little, deciding to just bail. Craig can do whatever he fucking wants, i'm not going to willingly spend time with someone who hates me. He doesn't even know me. Imagine what he's going to think when he spends time with me?

School is different. I'm forced to go to school, just like everyone else. Its not my fault there. Here, i'm just setting myself up for something horrible.

As i turn around, i bump into someone and mutter an apology, wanting to leave before i start to cry or have a stroke or something.

"Whoa, what's the rush? Are you okay?"

Suddenly, Craig is standing in front of me, holding my arm. Theres this look in his eyes that i've never seen before, like a cross between confusion and concern. I totally blank out, looking at my feet as i yank my arm away.

"N-Nothing. Just.." I can't even think of a good excuse. "C-Couldn't find anyone. I-I thought you d-ditched me."

"Well, you found me. C'mon, Token and Clyde are already in line." Craig says quietly, nodding towards the ticket booth. I follow him back to the others, keeping my bottom lip between my teeth as they talk enthusiastically among themselves.

God fucking dammit, i hate this.


	3. Chapter 3

Shatter Me

Chapter 3

When we walk into the fair, everything is already buzzing with activity. Little kids are swirling through the crowd and their parents are scattered in small clusters, watching their children and laughing softly among themselves. Middle schoolers are peppered into the mob as well, huddling in circles on the lines for rides, food and games. People from my class are here, too, but they're not doing much. I've always found it odd how teenagers spend so much time doing absolutely nothing with all of their friends. I mean, they payed to get in here, to ride the rides and play the games. But they're not doing any of those things; they're just talking amongst their little groups.

Clyde walks over to Stan and Kyle, smacking Stan square between the shoulders. Stan whacks Clyde's arm, the both of them smirking widely before they bump fists. A small pang of envy shoots through my chest; sometimes, when i see things like that, i wish i had the courage to join a team and make friends.

I look at my feet as i trail behind Craig's group after Clyde returns, wringing my hands as i drift in and out of listening to their conversation. Right now, they're talking about which ride we should go on. Saying nothing, i shove my hands into my pockets to keep myself from picking at them. I know they're not trying to leave me out. It just happens. People just tend to forget me, it happens all the time. I'm used to it.

"I want to go on the Free Fall," Clyde says excitedly, directing everyone's attention to the ride. It's this huge metal tower that lifts you into the air then drops you when you reach the top. Yeah, right. Like i'd go anywhere near that thing. You can see it over the top of everything, including all of the trees and some parts of the mountains.

"Fuck no," Craig says, his eyebrows furrowing. "You throw up on that ride. Why the hell would you want to ride it?" A small spark of a strange emotion flickers across Clyde's expression, but it's gone in a moment. He shrugs, giving Craig an easy smile.

"What can i say? I love it." He says, making Craig roll his eyes and scoff.

"That's twisted."

Maybe if i just stop walking, they won't notice i'm gone and i can go home.

"What ride do you want to go on, Tweek?" Token asks, turning to me and cutting off his friends. My eyes jerk up to meet his, my face draining of color. I wasn't really expecting anyone to want my input on something like this. Suddenly, i feel like everyone's eyes are on me.

"I-I'm not sure," I start meekly, glancing around quickly. Fuck, find something! Just say anything! "I-I like the F-Free Fall, too." What?

I can tell that everyone else is just as surprised as i am by this new development. Craig seems the most confused. I attempt to console myself by finding an excuse in my own mind. Maybe i was just trying to get off Clyde's bad side by agreeing with him; why i thought this was the correct time and place to go about it, i will never know.

"Um.. Okay then." Craig starts quietly, nodding towards the line to the ride. His eyes slide over me curiously, his gaze heavy. Oh shit, i think i'm going to crap my pants. "Let's get on line."

Mother fucking fuck. Goddammit... Now i have to get on line and ride the ride. All because of my big fucking mouth.

"Why is it suddenly okay to go on when Tweek wants to?" Clyde mutters, glaring at me as he walks past. I can't freaking win with this guy. And the worst part is that i can understand why everyone likes him. Even I want to like him. He's like a puppy; always excited and energetic. But if he doesn't like you, he can bite pretty hard. I shrink back into the fabric of my sweatshirt as Token rolls his eyes, shoving Clyde into line.

"Would you stop being so dramatic? It's very off-putting, and we have a guest with us this evening." He says smoothly, folding his arms over his chest. I give him an appreciative smile and he shrugs, waving his hand. Craig stands beside me, slight hints of embarrassment showing through his stony demeanor.

"W-Why do you l-look like that?" I whisper, leaning down a bit. I feel like i'm being embarrassing all of a sudden. And this time it makes me upset, because i'm not embarrassing myself. I'm embarrassing him. Craig glances up at me, an eyebrow quirking slightly.

"Look like what?" He whispers back, taking a step closer to me so he can hear me.

"Y-You look e-embarrassed,"

"When did you get so tall?" He whispers back, his expression falling back to its default as he shifts away slightly. I roll my eyes, nudging him. He tends to do this a lot, now that i realize it. When Craig doesn't want to answer a question, he just changes the subject.

"C-C'mon, man. J-Just answer me. It's not like it would hurt you or something." I say, tilting my head at him as we move up in line. Craig sighs, rolling his eyes and dragging his hand down his face.

"I am embarrassed." He confesses under his breath, his voice hushed. Again, i feel a pang or guilt run through my veins. "Clyde is being a dick to you, and i don't know why." Thank god. For once in my life, i'm not the one that someone's ashamed of.

"He doesn't w-want me here." At the sound of my voice, Craig looks up at me, complete confusion drawn over his face.

"Why?"

"Well, I-I'm not exactly a-at the top of the s-social latter, Craig." I mumble, shrugging and rubbing my arm. "H-He doesn't know me, a-and i seem pretty s-strange to everyone. It's not a b-big deal, e-everyone thinks that about me."

"You aren't strange to me." Craig says firmly, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath, clearly deep in thought before he turns to me. "Okay. I have an idea that you might like. It involves getting the fuck out of here." I smile slightly, nodding.

"Okay. B-But i don't really t-think that your friends will b-be very happy a-about you leaving."

"No. We wouldn't like you to leave." Clyde says, interjecting. I bite the corner of my lip and avert my eyes.

"Stop being so dramatic, Clyde, fuck. What is with you tonight? I almost always leave the fair early." Craig mumbles, rolling his eyes and folding his arms over his chest. Clyde scoffs, sinking into one hip.

"Yeah, but it's different now, you fuckface. And if you don't know why, just think for a moment; what is the only thing different about this year, hm?" Clyde spits through his teeth, glaring at me. It feels like my chest is going to collapse in on itself and i'm breaking out into a sweat, my throat going dry.

"Next in line please," The ride operator says gruffly, raising an eyebrow at us. Before i can do anything, Craig grabs me by the elbow and drags me past Clyde and Token, tossing me into one of the seats on the ride.

"Hey!" I shout at him, rubbing my arm where he had grabbed it. "I-I can walk, asshole!"

"See," Craig mumbles as he fastens his seatbelt and pulls down the brace. "You don't stutter as much when you're angry." I look down, my face bright red. As he's speaking, Clyde takes the seat beside Craig and Token slides in next to Clyde, a tiny grin on his face. I notice how everyone else's feet aren't touching the ground, how they're all hovering a good couple of inches off the metal platform. Glancing over at my own legs, i see that my Converse are firmly planted on the platform. I never really noticed how much taller i am than all of them. The ride operator quickly checks that everyone's harnesses are in place before returning the controls, activating the voice over that relays the instructions.

"Oh man, i'm so pumped!" Clyde says, bouncing in his seat. I take a deep breath, swallowing thickly when i watch the operator press a button that starts the ride. The thing lurches and creaks and we're slowly moving off the ground, watching as the fairgoers shrink below us. Oh jesus christ it's already so freaking high...

"Are you okay?" Craig asks softly, snapping me out of my thoughts. I force air into my lungs, shaking my head as i stare at the receding ground below me. "Here." He fits his hand in mine, giving my thin fingers a gentle squeeze.

"W-What the fuck a-are you d-doing?" I ask, staring at his hand.

"Just relax, alright? And close your eyes. That's what i do whenever Clyde gets me on this ride. It'll be over before you know it."

As Craig is speaking, the ride lifts us higher and higher. I'm rising over all the trees and the houses. I feel my heart pounding in my chest as we climb higher and higher, and i feel trapped. Every second I'm up here, I think it can't possibly get any higher, but every second I'm proven wrong. The only way is down...

I can't get myself down.

Just as i'm about to respond to him, i hear a low click and suddenly i'm falling through the air so fast that the seat isn't touching my ass anymore. A scream rips through my throat and before i know it we're on the ground again, my hands shivering and my throat sore. I force a deep breath of air into my lungs, my eyes wide as the brace lifts up over my head. Yanking my hand out of Craig's, i stumble down the steps and bend over the railing, puking my guts up into a nearby trash can.

"Ugh, sick dude.." Clyde mumbles as he passes behind me. My whole world is spinning and my knees are week, not to mention the fact that my lower intestines might still be on the fucking ride.

"Tweek?" Craig calls my name softly, keeping his distance as i catch my breath.

"Fuck off," I mumble, wiping the film of sweat off my forehead.

"What do you want to go on now?" Clyde asks, his bright smile taking up his whole face.

"Would you give him a minute, Clyde?" Token says firmly, his voice far away.

"He wouldn't need a minute if he wasn't such a pussy.." Clyde mutters under his breath. I pull air into my lungs, shaking my head as i stand up. I still feel a little nauseous, but much better than i did a few moments ago. The only thought i can hang onto is the fact that i don't want to be here any more, no matter what Craig threatens to do to me or how much i want him to like me.

"I-I'm just going to g-go," I say, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder. Before Craig can stop me, i turn on my heel and shove past the other people getting off the ride. I can hear him calling after me, but i ignore it completely, swallowing the lump that's welling in my throat as i move. I can't believe i let myself go through that. I must be fucking brain dead!

Wrapping my arms around myself, i speed walk out of the carnival and down the sidewalk in record time, wanting to get as far away from it as i can. The last fucking thing i need right now is Craig running after me or something.

No matter how much i may want him to.

Fine, I admit it. I admit it! I want him to follow me. I don't know why i want him to, but i do. I want to get to know him. He's nice to me, and he doesn't think i'm strange. I have no fucking clue how he came to the conclusion that i'm not, but he did. Somehow. And i like that about him. I really, really like the fact that at least one fucking person in this town doesn't think i'm going to lock myself in my house and become the crazy person of the neighborhood. I love the thought of having someone to hang out with and go to the movies with and study with. It all seems... nice. Happy. Not completely and utterly lonely all the time.

And i literally just ran away from the only person who's ever given me the benefit of the doubt.

Groaning, i rip my glasses off and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, leaning against a fence that runs along the sidewalk. God, i hate everyone. Now i know why i ditched Stan and those guys. Clyde is exactly like them, and it's exhausting. He's very protective of Craig. And i understand being wary of me, as many people are. But for reasons unbeknownst to me, he absolutely hates me. He wants nothing to do with me in the least, unwilling to even give me a little chance.

I don't want to think about this anymore. I just want to go home and curl up under my comforter with a movie to occupy my attention. Sighing, i slide my glasses back over my eyes and shove my hands into my pockets, walking the rest of the way home without another thought.

After I got home, i jumped into a quick shower (because there was no fucking way i was going to go into my nice clean room and lounge in my nice clean bed after being surrounded by that many people. That's nasty.) and browsed my extensive collection of DVDs. Then i got into some fresh pajamas, put up a wash so i'd have clean clothes in the morning and settled into my bed. I settled on an animated movie that i've seen already, as the last thing i need tonight is more excitement.

Too bad nothing ever works out in my favor.

About an hour into the movie, i hear a knock at the door downstairs. Since it's Friday, i knew that my mother had probably gone out and no one was downstairs to answer the door. I drag my lazy ass out of bed and down the stairs, only to find Craig waiting on my front stoop with his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Hi," He says when he meets my confused gaze. "You left."

"Y-Yeah, i left." I mumble, rubbing my arm. "I-I puked up my o-own stomach and g-got belittled by s-someone who barely even knows m-me, yet hates my g-guts. I-I thought it'd b-be appropriate to leave." Craig rolls his eyes at me.

"Clyde doesn't hate you."

"I-I find that hard to believe." Honestly, how could he not believe that Clyde doesn't at least dislike me. It's plain to see. And, right now, i don't feel like negotiating with him about it. "W-Why the fuck are you e-even here?"

"Just hear me out, okay?" Craig mutters, giving me a frustrated look. I sigh and nod for him to continue, folding my arms over my chest. "You left before the fireworks."

"O-Okay..?" I'm not going back there just to see some stupid fireworks, no matter how cool they are.

"I have a way for you to watch them. With me. Alone." Craig says, tilting his head at me. I raise an eyebrow and he rolls his eyes again. "It doesn't involve going back to the fair or anywhere near it, okay asshole?" Oh.

"Then w-what does it involve?" I ask quietly, more willing to listen to him.

"Just come with me and you'll find out."

"No." I say firmly, shaking my head. I move to shut the door, as i have no intentions of listening to Craig anymore, but he plants a hand on the doorframe and moves closer to me in protest.

"Why not?" He demands, leaning in a bit. I stiffen up, taking a step backwards.

"B-Because i d-don't want to have t-to guess about w-where i'm going. I-I'm done with t-that shit, man," I force the words out of my throat, my mouth dry and my eyes wide.

"Fine." Craig says, sighing. "I'm taking you to my house to watch the fireworks. There's an easy way to get onto the roof from my room, and since no one else is home right now, it'll be pretty quiet. It's my favorite place to go to be alone. That's all."

That actually does sound pretty nice. And it might let me get to know Craig a bit better. He's letting me into one of his favorite places, somewhere that no one else probably goes. I feel a light blush dust over my cheeks and i nod, pulling a deep breath of air into my lungs.

"Okay. J-Just.. Let me get s-some shoes on, o-okay? You c-can come in i-if you want." As i move away, Craig steps inside and closes the door behind him, standing awkwardly in the foyer. I jog upstairs quick to grab some socks out of my drawer before i sit down on the stairs to slide into my sneakers.

"Are you here alone?" Craig asks, his eyes wandering around my living room. It's pretty boring, to be honest; beige walls with a few pictures hung on them, a dark brown couch with a matching armchair, and a tv set on a wooden stand that matches the round coffee table in the middle of the room. It's all sparkling clean, though. That little tick of mine was passed to me through my mother.

"Yeah." I answer quietly, tying my sneakers at my ankles. I feel Craig's gaze shift to me.

"Where's your mom?"

"I-I'm not really s-sure, actually."

"And your dad?"

"He d-doesn't live here." I say quietly, shrugging as i stand up and brush off my pants. I can see the question in Craig's eyes before it even leaves his lips. "My p-parents got divorced when i-i was eleven. My d-dad lives across town, i-in the apartment complex n-next to Whistlin' Willie's. I g-go there on w-weekends sometimes."

"Oh." Craig murmurs quietly, looking down. "I'm sorry.."

"I-It's not really a b-big deal." I mutter, feeling awkwardness settle over the room. It really isn't. My parents were definitely not good for each other while they were married, but they're friends now. It wasn't some cataclysmic event that tore my life apart or something. They don't fight or argue over me or anything, not anymore. It was all really easy. It made it better for all of us, in the end. "L-Let's just go." I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck and pushing him out of the house.

"Hey!" Craig mutters in a mocking tone. "I-I can walk myself, asshole!"

"You're a-a dick," I roll my eyes at him a he smirks, folding my arms over my chest.

"That was a pretty good impression, you have to admit," He says, his smirk growing when he sees how irritated i am. He laughs loudly, the sound ringing through my ears. I've never heard him laugh like that; it's so incredibly unique, yet so Craig. I couldn't imagine anyone else making that sort of sound. It makes me want to laugh as well, and i do after a moment.

"I-I guess it wasn't awful," I confess softly, sighing in defeat.

A few minutes of idle chatting gets us to Craig's house, which i just now realize is only a few blocks from mine. I never really noticed how small this town actually is. His house is also right in front of Stark's pond, which must be a little annoying if you're trying to sleep and the fair is still active. He leads me through his house to his room, swinging the door open. His ceiling is painted a deep blue color, and the walls look like a bunch of different galaxies. That's only the first thing that catches my eye. The entire room is space themed, with constellations on the windows, different space memorabilia and a NASA bedspread.

"W-Wow.. Who p-painted this..?" I ask softly in awe, my eyes moving over the amazing artwork above me. I glance over at Craig, who seems kind of embarrassed.

"I did." He says softly, shrugging as he runs his fingers over the door. He strides over to the window on the other side of the room, forcing it open and waving me over. I decide not to push anything about the artwork, as he already seems pretty sheepish about it.

Chewing on my lip gently, i walk over to him, peering out of the window to the fairly small ledge below me. "I-I'm not climbing out o-onto that! I'll b-break my n-neck!"

"You won't break anything. I promise. I've been out there a thousand times and nothing happened to me." He mumbles, shoving me lightly with his elbow. I glare at him. "Just go."

I pull a deep breath into my lungs, climbing out onto the small space of roof. Craig climbs out after me, leading me over to a wider patch of roof adjacent to the window. Just as we're about to sit down, the test shot is fired and i jump, throwing my arms around Craig.

"GAH- fuck," I yell, smacking a hand over my mouth and pulling away. "Sorry." Craig shakes his head, keeping his eyes down.

"Let's just watch the fireworks." He says softly as he sits down, his cheeks a light shade of red. I never noticed how easy it is to make him blush. I take a seat beside him, folding my long legs under one another and leaning forward on my elbows.

"D-Do you l-like fireworks?" I ask quietly, glancing over at Craig. I find him staring at me, and his cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. At this point, mine are a matching color.

"Yeah, i guess so." Craig says, looking down at his sneakers as he rubs the back of his neck.

"W-Why do you keep l-looking at m-me like that?" This certainly isn't the first time i've caught him ogling me, and it's a little unsettling. A strange look comes over Craig's face and he takes a deep breath, his chest expanding with the effort.

"Because i have no other way to tell you that i like being around you." He says, his voice hushed. "I don't know why, but since the party last night i've wanted to be around you. And in the coffee shop today... I sound like some sort of stalker-" He's rambling; he's nervous.

As if on impulse, i tilt my head a little bit and press my lips gently to his. I can feel his surprise by the way he stiffens up, but he presses back in a few seconds. His hand moves up to cup my jaw and i lean closer to him, resting one hand on his hip.

Okay, i want to get a few things straight. I have been kissed before. I've kissed Bebe; we were both twelve and i was completely confused about my sexuality, but it was a kiss nonetheless. I've kissed Thomas Stone; he was a lot of firsts for me, and we dated for over a year before he moved away with his mother. I've kissed Kenny McCormick; we were both drunk as shit on Halloween one year and we ended up fucking on Stan's bed. (We still do sometimes, but that's beside the point)

But i've never been kissed like this.

Now, there are no sparks. There is no fiery passion or anything ridiculous like that. Maybe there should be, but i like what i actually feel much better than any of those put together. I feel a certain kind of warmth, and it's spreading through my chest. I can feel it in my fingertips and my toes and the top of my head. It feels like i'm coming home and collapsing into my bed after a long trip. It feels like i'm sitting in my favorite chair on a rainy day, watching my favorite tv show. It feels like i just came in after shoveling the snow out of my driveway, kicking the snow off my boots and wrapping myself in a soft blanket.

It feels comfortable, yet completely new at the same time.

All of a sudden, the fireworks start and we both jump, turning to face them with wide eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Shatter Me

Chapter 4

Craig tries to keep his cool on the outside, his eyes snapping towards the fireworks as he pulls away from Tweek. Shit. He thinks, holding his breath as colors explode in front of his eyes. Shit shit shit shit shit. I am so fucked...

He attempts to focus on the display, trying to make his mind go fuzzy and vacant. It won't. He spares a glance over at the blonde boy sitting next to him, watching as the colored lights cast strange shadows onto his angular features. All he can think about is the look on Tweek's face when they kissed, how amazingly warm and soft his lips are, and how indescribably homey it felt to be close to him. These should all be relatively happy thoughts, right?

Nope. Not for Craig.

These thoughts just make him feel feelings that stir up a lot of memories that he's been spending a lot of time repressing. These feelings resemble dread, nervousness and another one that Craig can't quite put his finger on. Something close to excitement.. But not at all like it at the same time. It's like the word "excitement" was written on a piece of paper that got thrown into the ocean, but by the time someone could get it out the word was just barely readable. It's a warped feeling of excitement, brought on by fear and confusion. And Craig absolutely hates it.

He hates it because his parents don't know that he's gay. And he has no idea of their view's on the subject. Not knowing is worse than knowing they wouldn't support it, because there's mystery involved. Ambiguity. A gray area that Craig would rather not venture into. Craig hates this sort of mystery, mostly because his own future is involved. He's sure his parents didn't sign up for some weird little gay kid when they adopted him. Craig has tried to be the easiest kid he could be after he moved in permanently, especially after all that shit they had to deal with when he was little. It was still a delicate subject, and the last thing he'd want to do is stir up more trouble.

But, naturally, he's going to.

The fireworks end all too soon and Craig is left staring at a cloud of thick gray smoke that's drifting lazily into the mountains, thin tendrils wrapping around the trees as they move past them. He can feel Tweek shaking beside him, his elbow touching Craig's ever so slightly. Pulling a deep breath of heavy air into his lungs, he turns back towards him, his mouth poised to speak. Tweek beats him to it.

"Wecan'ttellanyonewejustdidthat," He gets his whole sentence out in one breath, his cheeks a bright red when he turns to Craig with wide eyes. The raven blinks in surprise, his eyebrows lifting.

"Why? And take a breath this time, will you?" He mumbles, trying to get his heart to stop hammering against his chest. Now he's curious; what's Tweek's reason for wanting to keep... whatever happened here a secret? Tweek buries his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he speaks again.

"M-My parents are h-homophobic. T-They remind m-me about it a-all the time, a-and they're pissy e-enough as it i-is." Craig pulls a small breath of air into his lungs, feeling relief wash over him.

"It's okay. We don't have to tell anyone about that. My parents don't know either." He confesses quietly, laughing nervously as he rubs the crook of his neck. Tweek gives him a hesitant grin, his eyes shifting back to the cloud of smoke in front of them. By now, it had reached the mountains and the fair had resumed its normal motion, the rides lit up and the music blasting.

"S-So.. Now w-what?"

The next morning, Tweek gets up early to head over to his dad's, despite everything in his brain screaming at him not to. He still has bruises from the last time. He tells himself that he has his phone with him and if anything were to happen, he could just call the police.

...not that he ever has.

Craig wakes up fairly late on Monday morning, yawning and stretching while still tangled in his bedsheets. His family is full of early risers, so what he would consider "pretty late" may only be around nine o'clock to many. He only realizes what time it is because his two sisters are in the living room making as much noise as they possibly can. It always amazes Craig how much noise two tiny girls can generate all by themselves. Ruby is ten, and Emmy is seven. But, the way that Craig's bedroom is positioned in the basement makes it impossible to sleep for as long as he'd like to.

Sighing, he swings his legs over the side of his bed and pulls on a loose pair of sweatpants over his boxers, his ratty old Red Racer t-shirt threadbare against his skin. His hair is sticking up at all angles on one side of his face while the other is flattened against his cheek and forehead, somehow making the dark rings stand out more against his eyes. Blearily, he makes his way over to his guinea pig to feed her quickly before he heads off to feed himself.

Blinking in the sudden light at the top of the stairs, he runs a hand through his bedhead as he walks past the living room, where his sisters are jumping from one piece of furniture to the next. His mother appears at the top of the stairs, yelling at them to stop before they hurt themselves.

"You're going to ruin my couches, too," She mumbles, picking Emmy up off of the ottoman just before she jumps. "This will slide! You'll whack your head on the fireplace." She scolds gently, sending a pointed glare in Ruby's direction. Craig watches this all with mild intrigue from the doorway, holding a big glass of orange juice as he leans against the doorjamb. She places Emmy on the floor before bustling into the kitchen, her blonde hair flouncing around her shoulders as she clicks past Craig in her heels.

"You're going to work now, mom?" He mumbles quietly, taking a quick sip from his glass. Well, its actually a childproof cup with a lid on it. He usually uses them because it makes Emmy laugh when she sees her six-foot-one, sixteen year old brother with a bright pink cup with her favorite characters on it.

"Mmhm. Your dad will be home in about an hour. Do you think you can hold down the fort until then?"

"Yeah. We'll be fine."

"Perfect. I'm off." She says brightly, pressing a kiss to Craig's jaw as she flits around him. He outgrew her when he was fourteen, just after his growth spurt. "Don't try to cook anything, you know how bad that usually turns out. I'll see you later, girls. Behave. Call me if you need anything." With that, she's out the door and down the steps in a matter of moments, her little black car whirring as she starts it up and pulls away down the street. Craig rolls his eyes fondly before he walks to the pantry to get himself some breakfast, yawning as he extracts one of his favorite cereals from one of the top shelves; he hides it there, so one one else can get to them. Everyone in the Tucker household is under five foot five, save for Craig's father and Craig himself.

After preparing himself a big bowl of knock off fruity pebbles, he plops down in his favorite corner of the couch and switches on the TV, flipping aimlessly through the channels. Emmy comes over and sits directly next to him, her eyes forward and focused. Craig looks down at her as he spoons a mouthful of the cereal into his mouth, an eyebrow raised ever so slightly. "What'cha looking for, kid?" He mumbles through his food, using the back of his hand to cover his mouth.

"Put on my shows." She commands, her tiny voice firm as she shifts her gaze over to Craig. He shakes his head, settling on Terrance and Phillip instead. "Ew. This show is gross."

"That's why i like it." Craig mumbles, making Emmy scrunch her nose. "Did you go on any rides at the fair last night?" He questions softly, trying to sound interested. He is, but he has a hard time showing his emotions through his voice right after he wakes up. The girl nods her head excitedly, her short ringlet curls bouncing around her shoulders.

"Lots. I was too small for some of them, but Ruby took me on the bumper cars this time. She let me help her turn the wheel." Emmy's face lights up with excitement as she speaks and it make's Craig's chest feel warm to watch. "You have to come with me too, one day. Was Token with you?" Emmy has always preferred Token over anyone else that Craig is friends with, mostly because they let her do their hair and nails when they're at Craig's house.

A few years back, Token told Craig that they didn't feel like they were really a boy. Or a girl, for that matter. They decided to be referred to with gender neutral pronouns, as it's what they were most happy with. They also have no preferred style of clothing; sometimes, Token will wear a floral dress one day and a suit the next. No one in town thought it was very strange, as Mr. Garrison had bouts of struggling with gender while they were still young. Everyone just accepted Token as they are. Wendy is the same way, though she prefers female pronouns. Kenny likes to wear an occasional dress as well, just because. Craig thinks he has the hips and legs for it.

"Mmhm. Token was there. So was Clyde, and a new friend of mine. Tweek." Craig slows down a bit when he mentions the blonde, not really knowing how to phrase what exactly they are. It happened so quickly.. Craig was actually surprised at how willing Tweek was.

"That's a funny name." Emmy comments absently, reaching for the remote across Craig's lap. He smiles slightly, letting her take it to scroll through the channels. She sets her sights on one of her favorite cartoons, one that Craig has seen so many times he could probably recite it word for word.

"He's a funny kid. But i don't think that's actually his name. I think we called him that.." Craig trails off, looking at his mostly empty bowl of cereal. They gave him that name because he was so twitchy. It means meth addict, pretty much; Cartman came up with it when they were in first grade. Naturally, he didn't really know how to spell it, replacing the a with a second e. It just kind of stuck. Craig can't even remember his real name. Now that he thinks about it, it's really cruel. The kid probably has ADHD or something, he can't help it. Not to mention the fact that his parents gave him coffee constantly, which only made it worse. Craig makes a mental note to ask around for Tweek's real name.

Once Craig's dad gets home, Craig retreats back to his room, fiddling with his photography equipment for a little while before deciding to put on a movie. He doesn't want to think about last night. At all. Even the slightest memory- like how green Tweek's eyes look when you're up close to them or how the tiny smile that Tweek wore after they pulled away from each other made Craig's chest warm- made his whole body ache. Groaning, he drags a hand down his face and fast forwards through the previews.

Somehow, he knows that all of this won't end well for him, no matter what he does to try and help it.

The weekend passes with no considerable events, thank god. It may be because Craig isolated himself in his room and ignored all the texts he got, but it worked nonetheless. Now, he's going to meet Kenny and a bunch of other people at the mall. Lord knows what they're going to be doing, but Craig figured it was probably time to get out of his house for a little while. At least it would get his mother off his back.

He dresses in a comfortable pair of jeans and a worn t-shirt, slipping into a new-ish pair of adidas sneakers. Nothing's new for long with Craig, especially this summer. He and a big group of people have all been heading to the baseball field behind the middle school for impromptu games of baseball. Fuck, Craig loves baseball. Kenny does too; he's the catcher and the back up short stop. He and Craig have been on the varsity team for as long as they've has been playing seriously, through middle school too. Craig only has two years of high school under his belt, but it's unheard of in Park County High for a freshman to make varsity in the first round of tryouts. And he's pitcher, no less. Kenny was usually in the outfield, until the catcher broke his wrist and they had to sub Kenny in mid-game. Turns out the guy was a natural.

Baseball is like a strange kind of drug for Craig. When he plays baseball, its like the world sharpens. He can focus easier, almost like his mind becomes a blank slate. His body moves as though it was a machine, with all the parts meshing and blending together perfectly. It's absolutely amazing, and he doesn't think he'd ever be able to give it up. It's his drug.

Baseball is one of the only reasons Craig's kept his grades up at school, because if he has anything below a C in any of his classes he'd be kicked off the team. The one class he has a lot of trouble in is english. Every other main subject is okay; math is fine, Spanish is okay and science is a breeze. He has to study a bit for history, but he hasn't failed once. Even the other classes he has, art, music and gym, he can make it through with a high B or even the occasional A. But english is too.. unstructured for him. It's too debatable and open to questioning. Everyone interoperates a piece of text differently, and he usually interoperates it wrong. And don't even get him started on the fucking grammar. He's a suck up to the teacher, though, and he usually asks Clyde to help him. He's gotten by with a low B, which is fine by him.

Craig ties his sneakers in tight knots and calls up to his dad, telling him that he's leaving. After this, he pulls open a door opposite his bedroom and walks into a short hallway, opening another door that enters into the garage. He stretches as he starts towards the mall, digging in his back pocket for his phone to text Kenny. If he fucking flakes on him again, Craig is going to kill him.

It's a fairly short stroll to the mall, especially on this cooler summer day. Craig is happy that the fall is coming, mostly because he can finally put his sweatshirts back on. It gets way too goddamn hot nowadays for sweatshirts.

"Craig, hey man!" Clyde's loud voice breaks the shimmering summer silence and Craig rolls his eyes, shaking his head as the brunette jogs over to him. "I thought you'd never fucking show up."

"I was taking my time." Craig mutters, shrugging as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"I wouldn't expect any different from you. C'mon, everyone else is already here. Oh, and i'm kinda pissed at Bebe; she dragged Tweek along, too. Did you hear-" At this information, Craig freezes up for a moment, his heart beating in his ears and his eyes going wide. The pause is for a nanosecond, though, so luckily Clyde doesn't catch it.

"What's your problem with him?" Craig asks, cutting Clyde off mid-sentence.

"I dunno," Clyde mumbles, lying. Craig can tell easily, as he was always a bad liar.

"Bullshit,"

"I get a bad vibe from him, dude, okay?"

"Are you still fucking on this 'vibe' thing? It's ridiculous, Clyde. Tweek's harmless. Get the hell over yourself." Craig mumbles, scoffing as he stalks over towards the door. Who the fuck is Clyde to judge Tweek like that? He doesn't know him at all. Well... Craig doesn't really know him either, but he certainly knows more than Clyde does. As Craig pushes through the doors of the mall and the air conditioner hits him like a smack in the face, he realizes something..

...He cares way too much about Tweek.

At this point, Craig wants to turn right around and walk home to avoid all of this. He's not exactly the best at dealing with situations as delicate as this, especially when it involves his own feelings. But now Kenny has spotted him and waved him over to his spot by the fountain. He's surrounded by a mob of people, which only makes Craig more nervous. He spots Bebe and Tweek off to one side, with Tweek's back to him. Despite himself, a small smile tugs at Craig's lips when he sees the blonde. For some reason it makes him feel better to know he's actually tangible, like he's a real thing.

Craig walks around the opposite side to avoid the pair of blondes, fist bumping Kenny when he reaches him.

"What the fuck is this?" He mumbles, waving his hand over the small crowd of his classmates. Kenny smiles crookedly and shrugs, leaning back a bit on the polished marble that lines the fountain.

"Red spread the word, man. Not my fault." He says, holding his hands up in defense. Craig sighs and sinks into one hip, folding his arms over his chest. "Did you see what happened to Tweek?"

"Why the fuck does everyone want to talk about him today?" Craig spits, feeling frustrated. Figures. The one person he wants to avoid is popping up everywhere.

"Whoa, chill. Just look at him, man; someone beat the crap out of him, and he won't say who." At this statement, Craig's eyebrows pull together in disbelief. He doesn't really believe Kenny at first, until he remembers that Kenny has no reason to lie to him about something like this. What the fuck would he gain by lying to Craig about some kid he supposedly has nothing to do with? Well, not supposedly; not anymore. They had both agreed that it wasn't smart to try and start anything, not even a friendship. Things could evolve, and that is far from what either of them need at the moment.

Pulling in a deep breath to try and brace himself, Craig turns his head slightly and looks out of the corner of his eye, catching a small glimpse of Tweek's brand new black eye. He looks away before he can see anything else.

He doesn't want to think about this. If he thinks about what happened, he's going to want to ask Tweek about it. Things will spiral and they won't end well. He decides to change the subject, his gaze shifting to the lanky blonde in front of him.

"Walk with me to the ice cream place? I have extra, i'll buy you something."

Tweek is so tired by the time Monday comes around, that he actually gets a full nights sleep the night before. He woke up for work at the usual time, dragging himself through a shower before throwing on his apron and heading to Harbucks. He had spent the entire weekend at his dad's apartment, and he came home in worse shape than he left.

He lied to his mother about the black eye, saying that he had walked right into an open cabinet. That wouldn't exactly be the first time he'd done that, so she took the lie easily. Plus, this particular black eye wasn't as bad as the ones he's gotten before; its really just a small patch of black and blue just below his left eye. She couldn't really see anything else, as he dressed himself in dark jeans and a hoodie. He only did this to conceal the finger shaped bruises on his arms; it's hot as hell outside, the last thing he wants to be fucking wearing is a sweatshirt. But he forgot to bring a lighter long sleeved button down this time, of course. It was the only thing he could do to hide them.

He lied to Bebe when she asked about the bruises too, saying that he had tripped and fallen down the stairs. She saw them when he rolled his sleeves up to wash his hands, forgetting about them for the moment. When she asked about the black eye, he told her the same thing he told his mom, and she believed him. In response to this, she made him one of his favorite drinks just the way he liked them, and told him to sit down for a break to drink it.

Tweek decided that he likes her a lot, and that he should give her a chance. He agrees to go with her to the mall to meet a bunch of other people (including Kenny) after their shift ends. Tweek may have also agreed to go because Bebe needs a wingman when it comes to Kenny. He can tell they like each other by the way they act when the blonde comes into the coffee shop. They both kind of fix themselves a bit before they speak, using slightly hushed tones and subtle body movements. He doesn't think Bebe is like a lot of the people at his school, and she deserves someone as nice as Kenny, because Kenny really is a nice person… once you get past all the badly hidden sexual innuendoes. Bebe is really sweet. She reminds him a bit of Craig.

Shit.. he doesn't want to think about Craig. The bastard was on his mind all weekend. He decided not to let himself think very often, instead busying himself with making orders and cleaning up after the people that leave.

Tweek knew his resolve wouldn't last very long when he saw Craig walk into the mall, Clyde trailing behind him like a lost puppy. He scowled at Tweek when he met his eye, so Tweek looked away. Sometimes he feels bad for Clyde. He doesn't think Clyde knows how lucky he is to have someone like Craig as a friend. He doesn't really know Craig very well, but he certainly knows that he cares a lot about Clyde and his other friends. Tweek wishes Craig cared a lot about him.

...fuck.


End file.
